


Soriel Week

by Zorua_Illusion



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AUs, Altertale (in chapter 6), Other, but it's mostly just platonic fluff, headcannons, right now it's purely platonic, tags will be updated as story progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorua_Illusion/pseuds/Zorua_Illusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying a different format for these prompt week challenges. It's Soriel week, and even if you don't ship them romantically, platonic friendship drabbles are what I'm here for!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Jokes

She had never met the maintenance man who maintained the old clockwork dragon that served as their protector. She only heard him talking to it as she cleaned the area around the entrance. He spoke in a strange language, clicks and whirrs and high-pitched hums and whistling that she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

So when she heard a two clear, distinct knocks on the thick wooden door that marked the resting place of the dragon, followed by a male voice saying “knock knock”, well.

Was there anything else to do but reply “who’s there?”

It took a moment, but the male responded. “Dishes,” he said.

“Dishes who?”

“Dishes a very bad joke.”

It had been ages since Toriel had heard a joke as bad as that- well, frankly, it had been ages since Toriel had heard a joke period, but that’s beside the point- and so she had a full-on laughing fit, as if trying to catch up on all those years of silence she had brought upon herself.

It seemed the man on the other side of the door enjoyed her laughter, as he proceeded to tell her another joke every time her laughing fits threatened to end.

Finally, after a dozen jokes, Toriel thought of one herself and was finally coherent enough to say it. Before the maintenance man was able to, she knocked on the door.

“Who’s there?”

“Old lady.”

“Old lady who?”

“Oh, I did not know you could yodel!” she chortled, and he along with her.

“That was pretty good, lady. But I really gotta get going; my bro gets cranky if he doesn’t get his bed time story.”

“Ah, oh, of course,” Toriel started, sad to lose her new friends. She tried a few times to say something, but nothing came out. It was pathetic- she, a former noblewoman, a queen even, unable to ask this man who had made her a little less lonely for a few minutes the simplest of things: to come back. He was the maintenance man, he’d be in the room again, but would he knock once more?

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she was surprised when he spoke up. “You know, this was pretty enjoyable, old lady,” he said, obviously referencing her joke, “wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don’t wish to take time from your duty,” she fretted.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. This bucket of bolts doesn’t really need my help to keep going, me being here is mostly paranoia. So, tomorrow?”

Toriel couldn’t refuse that logic, not with being so desperate for company. “Tomorrow, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1: Jokes. Hella AU in here; I saw Wicked (the musical) for the first time on Wednesday and it was just too good not to put in. That's why the dragon is there- it's based off of the Time Dragon mechanic in the play. Sans is the only one who can talk to it, which is why he's the maintenance man. (Well, I'm also debating having the dragon be Papyrus/Dadster, but this is just half of an idea I wanted to put up.) Toriel is the caretaker of the halls, but no one is allowed in the dragon's chamber while it's being worked on, which is why she's never met Sans.   
> I just... really love the idea that no matter what universe, no matter what time, there are some threads of events that are consistent, which is why we still have knock-knock jokes told through the door.


	2. Pie/Baking

It was surprising to Toriel that Sans knew how to cook. He had always eaten his brother’s pasta or gone to Grillby’s, or maybe made a hot cat if he was particularly ambitious, but as far as she knew, he didn’t know how to cook.

It had taken one of his embarrassed rants that had occurred about three years after they moved to the surface until he told her. She had no idea what had made him go off like that this instance (though it probably had something to do with mentioning a new teaspoon set she saw on the brothers’ counter, waiting to be washed), but she was glad it happened.

“- and cooking is really just another form of science, you know? Chemical reactions that cause something to happen by mixing different amounts of various products to form a solution, and I’ve been pretty proficient in chemistry for a while now and-”

“Sans,” she politely interrupts, knowing how he hates to give away information like this. He blinks before a light blue flush comes over him, realizing he was ranting.

“So you can cook?” Toriel prompted, seeing Sans’s discomfort and trying to abate it.

“Nothing elaborate - too much work, you know – but enough to get by,” he admitted, “and definitely nothing as good as your pies.”

There was something in his voice that made Toriel think about his statement instead of just brushing it off. A sort of sadness that she had only rarely seen out of him at times that seemed completely random to her had crept into his voice. She had heard his voice enough, muffled through the door and in person, to know its subtle differences.

“Well,” she said, “as you said, Sans, cooking is a lot like science. Baking is very similar, except it is far stricter in its ratios. I’d be willing to teach you, if you would like.”

Evidently, she said the right thing, as Sans’s face ran through its somewhat limited range of emotion before finally settling back into his usual grin, only with a little bit of genuine happiness in it.

“Ah, well, you know me Tori. An offer like that? I just can’t _turnip_ down.”

Toriel started laughing. She was looking forward to the first lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two takes place a few years after they came to the surface. Just friendship drabble and Sans headcannon.


	3. Comfort

There are times where they both need comfort, but neither has an idea on how to help the other.

Sans is constantly worried about the future – well, sort of. Toriel doesn’t quite understand what he means sometimes, when he says some comment about “you said that last time” but brushing it off as if it were nothing when she inquires about it. He doesn’t tell her what, specifically, he’s so concerned about, but she thinks it has something to do with Frisk. The child is soft spoken and kind, but there are some periods where they will just stare, mouth half forming words as they speak without sound. Sometimes, she knows, he awakes from nightmares grasping his sternum as if it would turn to dust if he let go. But she never finds out what is specifically bothering him. She respects that he is a very private skeleton; she just wishes she had an idea of how to comfort him.

Sans had an idea of what Toriel would think about – the lost children, or her self-imposed solitude. He knows the knock knock jokes helped her immensely (she had told him as such in no uncertain terms, but that annoying part of his brain still whispered that she was just saying that to appease him), but he had no idea what to do now. Papyrus was easy to comfort; he’d been doing that for as long as he can remember. Tori was a whole ‘nother snow poff. She would get this faraway look in her eye sometimes, getting lost in thought, before picking up where she left off or forgetting entirely (a side effect of her solitude, he figured). There would be some days where she could hardly speak at all with how rampant her thoughts were, how strong. She would always brush it off as her just “being a silly, worried old lady”, to which Sans would never push but also never agreed.

There would be times when both of their bad days coincided and only made them less able to help the other.

Despite all this, they tried. Physical comfort was something that they could both do with minimal effort required. Sans would fill a role he was long since used to, thanks to Papyrus- thanks to their height difference, he was often used as a teddy bear. It was a role he never minded being forced into by Papyrus, and this would eventually extend to Toriel. It was comforting to them- both the hugger and huggee- the feel of something solid and holding the faint warmth of life.

Neither really knew how to comfort the other. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t determined to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for being late! It's my first week on campus, so that's why some postings are late. Friday's and Saturday's should be on time, however.  
> A little bit of a bittersweet one. Let's face it, with a pair like Toriel and Sans, not every day is going to be sunshine and rainbows. There's no cure for depression. Only something to help with the symptoms. But they have each other, too.


	4. Family

They don’t talk much about their families.

I mean, the previous ones. Don’t get me wrong, Toriel always goes off on Frisk and how well they’re doing in school (and sometimes, on worse days, how _not_ well they’re sleeping), and Sans has nothing but positive things to say about his brother. But when it comes to the people who were in their lives before, they don’t say much, if anything.

Toriel will occasionally talk about Chara, Asriel, or Asgore if prompted. Sans never really pushes, but sometimes Frisk does, and so Toriel will tell the story before bed, often leaving the room to hide her teary eyes. Sans is the one to comfort her, bringing her back into the present by grabbing her hand-like paw.

Even rarer, Frisk will ask about the children who came before them. They knew some basics- the color of their soul, their armor, and their weapon- but they wanted to know them. Toriel could talk about the fallen children for less time than she could talk about her royal family. Sans couldn’t help her those nights. He could only stay with her as she came back to reality over the course of a few hours.

 

Sans still has his lab. He brought up everything from the back room, but no one quite knew what it was for. Even Papyrus didn’t really know much about it, except that it was important to Sans. Frisk has an idea, but they know Sans would never really give them a straight answer no matter how DETERMINED they were. Sans goes in there often, but he comes out same as always most days.

Most.

There are some days where he comes out looking like the entirety of Mt. Ebbott has been placed on his bones. He says nothing, looks at nothing, and glides through the house more like a ghost than a skeleton. The only reminder of his boney nature (besides his looks) are the steady claps of his slippers against non-flesh heels.

There are some days were he doesn’t come out at all, leaving Toriel to come out to the shed and pick up his restlessly slumbering form, carrying him to bed. She warms up ketchup for him, knowing he’ll be down soon. (He always comes.) They never speak during these sessions, but Frisk will often walk down and find the two on the couch with two dirty cups in the sink. They’re curled up together, not strictly romantically, but enough for them to feel the warmth of life nearby.

(Frisk knows about calling for help. They’re just glad their momster and dunkle had someone who came.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's on time though! Still a bit bittersweet.  
> Yes, I use the Dadster headcannon. I sort of enjoy creepy Gaster, and boss monster Gaster is fun, and brother Gaster is cool, but Dadster is what I like best, so Dadster headcannon it is, along with Sans's attempts of reviving him. No, he hasn't told anyone. How are you supposed to prove someone exists when the only thing that remains are half forgotten memories of dreams?


	5. Lost

Where the heck was his slipper?

Sans knew that he wasn’t really the neatest person (or a tidy person at all, really), but those slippers are practically glued to his phalanges. How could he be missing one?

More importantly, where was it?

Sans mumbled as he searched, saying annoyed nothings as he hunted down his missing slipper. He checked the usual spots- under the bed, the shoebin, Frisk (the child would occasionally steal them and have a puppet show that Sans would join in on), and finally the living room couch in Toriel’s part of the split house.

He didn’t find his slipper, but he did find Toriel. She looked a little sheepish, which made Sans confused. Why would she feel that way over a missing slipper?

“I… err… I saw it the other day. It was very worn down, and since I had some extra funds…” Toriel trailed off. Instead of finishing, she leaned down and grabbed a maroon box and handed it to Sans. He took it automatically, still staring at Toriel. She looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“I just thought that perhaps… perhaps you would enjoy a gift. When was the last time you received a gift from someone other than Papyrus?”

Sans didn’t know what to say. The only other person who gave him presents other than his brother was Gaster, and he was the only one who remembered him. Toriel seemed to understand his speechlessness, but he could see a bit of anxiety in her eyes. Knowing about this, he chose to open the box.

Inside was a pair of new loafer slippers. They were higher quality than his old ones- they had solid bottoms and were more like moccasins than slippers. He put them on, first the right (which had no slipper, since that was the one he was missing) and then the left, removing the other pink slipper.

Toriel had accustomed his peculiar taste in colors and footwear, (somehow) getting dark blue slippers for him.

“Thanks, Tori,” he said casually, but Toriel could sense the sincerity behind the words.

“You’re quite welcome, Sans,” she replied. She opened her arms and Sans complied, letting her hug him and hugging her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! On time! Just barely, but on time!  
> I thought about doing a "lost souls find each other" kind of deal, but I've already done my thoughts on Toriel and Sans and meeting through the/a door. Tomorrow's and Saturday's should be on time, considering I only have to write Saturday's!


	6. AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll probably want to check out Friisans on tumblr- there’s two i’s in that, by the way- otherwise, you’ll end up really confused while you’re reading this. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

He hummed. _Constantly._

Okay, maybe ‘constantly’ was an exaggeration on her part, Toriel would admit. But he did so rather frequently. Even when they were just voices on the other side of the Ruins door, she had heard him humming in the comfortable silences between them.

As they talked, she learned more about his humming. When he was happy, it was a ditty, snippets of different songs tied together by something new; whatever came to him, she assumed. It was the one she heard most often through the door.

When he was deep in thought, it was hardly there at all. A chord of three notes, maybe, before fading into silence for a few seconds. Rinse and repeat. This too was common through the door, especially when they began asking each other important things and not just telling knock-knock jokes and bad puns.

But worst of all was when he was sad. There were two things he did when he was sad: he either hummed some low notes, strung together in some long-lost mourning tune, or there was nothing at all.

Toriel’s not sure which she finds worse. She does her best to bring back the happy ditty, or at least the neutral chords. She doesn’t always succeed, but she thinks he appreciates the thought. He’s told her so a few times, at least.

When they got to the surface, though… that was when the humming never ceased. It didn’t bother her – she has _years_ of practice tuning out noises, thanks to her brother’s rather noisy attempts at making scones – rather, it had the same effect as his default expression: it cheered her. Whenever she stopped by the house the previous Ruins guardian lived in with the human child, she listened for his humming. She never did tell him about her hearing being more sensitive than most but she hadn’t told him about-

Well. She hadn’t told him about a lot of things.

She listened as best she could – the door here was thinner than the Ruins, but if he was in the kitchen, it’s a lot more distance and therefore harder to hear- Ah! There it is. Oh, he’s happy. Toriel felt herself start grinning. She liked it when he was happy.

She rapped on the door twice.

“Who’s there?” She heard footsteps. Ah. So he was in the kitchen.

“Adore,” she responded.

“Adore who?”

“There’s _adore_ between us again, my friend,” Toriel giggled.

Sans opened the door and looked down at Toriel. He was dressed in a long, hooded coat that Toriel had made for him when he mentioned he was more comfortable in clothes like that.

Toriel looked down and blushed. She thought he looked handsome in his old robes, and this? It was a little much for her, even after these few months he’s spent wearing it.

“You look nice,” he said kindly, his grin softening.

(A voice in Toriel’s head that sounded annoyingly like Asgore said “Gasp! A genuine compliment!”)

“Thank you.” Toriel felt her cheeks warm even more; Asgore and Frisk had both helped her pick out a nicer blazer to put over her usual dress, as well as a simple necklace. “Y-You look nice as well.” She cleared her throat and put on a brave face. “Shall we?”

Sans just smiled and extended his arm out of his over-large sleeves just enough for Toriel to grab on. The two walked off towards the outskirts of town.

Even though Sans stopped every few minutes, it was still the most enjoyable date Toriel’s had so far.

(She just really hopes that she’ll never do this particular date again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AlterTale AU b/c I love the aesthetic too much.


	7. Music

As I said, an Undertale prompt week _without_ music? Blasphemy.

 

It was a little known fact that Toriel could sing. And I don’t mean lullabies (though according to the kiddo, she sang those amazingly as well). I mean like full-blown Broadway style singing.

Asgore knew. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that he did. I mean, the two were married for who knows how long. Their kids might’ve known, too, but… well.

Gerson probably knows. That turtle knows practically everything about what happens in the Underground, and what happened before it. He was also an advisor to the royal family before retired, and the old Captain of the Guard before that, so he’s certainly known Tori far longer than I have.

But that’s not what I’m here to talk about; I’m here to talk about Tori being able to sing Broadway.

We do know Broadway. Occasionally we’d get a tape or a disc in the dump that would spread around the Underground. Playbills for shows were a lot more common, and when we got up to the surface a few years back, well… gold was pretty valuable and us monsters love music. _Wicked_ was a popular play among monsters; we related our situation to that of Elphaba and-

I’m off topic. Anyway, Tori can sing Broadway style and man, can she _nail_ it. She doesn’t make a habit of telling, though. Even I only found out by accident one day.

It was late at night on a weekday. The bakery I worked at part time wasn’t open the following day (some ritual the human who ran it didn’t explain, but they were paying me as if I worked a full shift tomorrow so I didn’t worry too much), so I was able to romp around without having to worry about falling dead (heh) asleep during my shift. Papyrus was at a sleepover with Undyne, and I think he took the kiddo along (if the earlier shouts of “COME ALONG, HUMAN!” were any indication), so that left just me and Tori in this split house.

As I putted around the living room, I heard something. It was just a few snippets of notes, but still. I know Tori doesn’t leave the radio on quite so late, and I know nothing in the part I share with my bro is producing any music right now. I creep towards to sound, which is coming from the door that link the two parts of the house.

As I get closer, I realize it’s singing. And there’s only one person who could be singing here. I silently open the door, entering Tori’s living room. From there, I’m able to see her bustling around in the kitchen. She’s singing as she works.

 

_Don't dream too far_

_Don't lose sight of who you are_

_Don't remember that rush of joy_

_He could be that boy_

_I'm not that girl_

_Ev'ry so often we long to steal_

_To the land of what-might-have-been_

_But that doesn't soften the ache we feel_

_When reality sets back in_

_Blithe smile, lithe limb_

_She who's winsome, she wins him_

_Gold hair with a gentle curl_

_That's the girl he chose_

_And Heaven knows_

_I'm not that girl_

_Don't wish, don't start_

_Wishing only wounds the heart_

_I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl_

_There's a girl I know_

_He loves her so_

_I'm not that girl..._

She finished and I started clapping. Apparently I spooked her, since she jumped a good few inches and laid a paw over her chest.

“Ah! Sans, you startled me,” she reprimanded. I could see her blushing underneath her fur, which meant that she was blushing very strongly indeed.

“Oops. Sorry ‘bout that, Tori. Didn’t know you could sing.”

Tori didn’t respond right away. “I sense that you will have more questions. Come, Sans. If we are to do this, then let us do this right.”

A few minutes later and we were seated at her kitchen table with a slice of butterscotch pie in front of us, as well as some tea. Tori spun her spoon around in the cup out of habit more than necessity.

“I was always a decent singer. According to my parents, that is. When we were still upon the surface, they hired a tutor for me. This was not long before Broadway itself, but awhile before Broadway music. I was trained to sing complex scores of opera music in that style. I did not care for opera, however. I wanted to feel the music, and by extension, the emotions behind it. When we were Underground and Broadway really started up, I just… fell in love.” Tori shrugged, and looked into her tea. “Training kicked in, and here we sit today.”

Okay, makes sense. Heck, Papyrus winces whenever there’s a bad note on a string instrument, and I know when a piano hasn’t been tuned in far too long, so it makes sense that Toriel’s training kicks in when she’s just trying to enjoy herself. But what I don’t get is…

“Why that song?” Tori might not have been “born for the rose and pearl”, but they certainly suit her.

“No reason,” she says, “it was just stuck in my head.”

I knew she was lying. She knew I knew. But I couldn’t call her out on it. Why would she lie? I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing, but hey, sometimes you lose to Doggo in poker.

“You should sing more often. It was… nice.”

Tori blushed, and I knew my own cheekbones were blue tinted. “Thank you, Sans,” she replied honestly, but made no promises. I could respect that.

“’Course, Tori. What can I say? Complimenting you is easy as pie.” I winked, and Tori spiraled into laughter.

Mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny how I had everything typed and still managed to be late. Let's just say I had some college dorm adventures yesterday in explanation and leave it at that. Song used is "Not That Girl" from Wicked, because Wicked was just too good to not put more references in.   
> And yes, I know, Sans's perspective and only one pun?! It's a crime, truly.  
> Happy Soriel Week, y'all, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
